


✚ αȵ αρρℓє α ȡαʏ ✚

by NightmareMode



Category: One Piece
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Sick!Reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-24
Updated: 2014-09-24
Packaged: 2018-02-18 15:49:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2353922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightmareMode/pseuds/NightmareMode
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[ Trafalgar Law x Sick!Reader ] In my fever ridden state, this was born. Let's be honest, who's surprised anymore that it's Law? (Sorry for anything that's medically incorrect, I'm not a doctor. I only have Google at my disposal. ^^;)</p>
            </blockquote>





	✚ αȵ αρρℓє α ȡαʏ ✚

“What time is it?” Your voice was hoarse and discordant, and the sheer vibrations of your speech grated against your parched throat, causing it to throb unpleasantly as you unhelpfully coughed into the comfortable white pillow that lay tucked beneath your head.

“Two o'clock.” A cool, refreshing voice spoke calmly, and you lifted your [e/c] eyes to the man who sat a short stretch from your bedside, a thick volume tucked in one tattooed hand and one jean covered leg balanced over the knee of the other.

The skin around your brows formed a faint 'v' shape as you frowned, letting out a wheezing breath as you stifled another cough by clearing your throat.

Your hands swept through your damp [h/c] strands of hair, and your gaze keenly swept over to the slouched over figure that had yet to lift his eyes from his chosen distraction; a hefty book filled with medical bits and pieces that he already knew.

“Two o'clock?” You echoed dumbly, letting out a bit of a groan as you sat up slowly in bed, your world whirling in a mix of dimly lit colors and spinning walls. The room was churning behind your eyes, and brightly hued flecks of color darted across your vision briefly as you sighed, your body shuddering with the effort.

“You slept seventeen hours.” He informed you, his storm gray eyes briefly lifting from the paragraph he had previously transfixed his stare on.

 

“ _Seventeen hours?!_ ” You gaped, spluttering a bit before your shock died on your burning lips as your body was racked with hefty coughs that jarred your delicate body. You groaned loudly, doubling over in the bed, seeking refuge under the warm blankets. This seemed to displease Law, because a moment later the sheets were firmly but carefully tugged away from you.

“Give them back,” You moaned feebly, giving your feet a weak kick in the general direction of the surgeon, who caught the sluggishly flailing limbs with ease, causing you to pout further.

“You don't need extra fabric on you. You need to let the fever escape your system, not further add to it by tallying up more heat. One blanket is enough, [Name]-ya.” He stated, releasing your feet that had previously attempted to kick him.

The limbs sunk back down onto the bed as you rolled onto your back, letting out an even louder groan of complaint as Law shot you a quick look, before he stretched his hand out towards your forehead.

You immediately hissed as his ice-like touch pressed against your febrile stricken flesh, causing you to recoil as he frowned slightly.

You heard him mutter something about how your fever still had yet to break, which you assumed was troubling. You sniffled a bit as you rubbed your eyes, your cheeks flushed a vibrant red with your fever, though they grew a bit redder when a pair of arms slid under your figure, lifting you from the bed-- blanket and all.

“What are you doing?” You frowned up at your captain, whose lips curled upwards into a faint smirk.

 

“For someone who's running a considerable fever, you sure do ask a lot of questions.” You could feel the vibrations from his tone radiating throughout his chest, the waves of sound rippling into your delicate figure as he easily totted you to his medical armamentarium.

You were sat down atop a medical bed, and you shifted slightly, tucking your blanket closely around your figure as you watched him pace to the sink, washing his hands procedurally before grabbing a pair of gloves for sterile purposes.

“Lay on your back,” He ordered, and you pursed your lips, a single brow raising high on your forehead as you faced him.

“And what if I don't want t-” Your words quickly trailed off as a firm hand pushed down gently on your stomach, forcing you onto your back without your given consent.

“I don't recall asking if you wanted to, [Name]-ya.” The doctor drawled, that infuriating smirk crawling onto his lips as you scowled vaguely at him. He seemed nothing if not amused by this-- you were still as feisty as ever, even in your ailing state.

“Symptoms?” He asked, pressing down on your abdomen slightly, causing you to wince. Not because he was rough, but because every part of you ached.

“I feel like my skin is melting off, and that my throat has suddenly nested itself in a desert. My head is about to split in half, and I just want to go back to sleep because my body hurts like hell.” You mumbled, groaning a bit when he tilted you chin up, ever so carefully massaging the area of your throat to check for inflammation.

“So in other words,” He chuckled dryly, “A fever, sore throat, headache, fatigue and aches.”

You snorted, rolling your eyes a bit at his arid taunting, but nonetheless you kept still during his poking and prodding. He was surprisingly humane with you for someone who was renowned for his cruelty. He took his time, examining every detail he deemed necessary with excessive precision and tediousness.

He took a few samples from you, and when he returned, he removed his medical gloves and slid his hands under warm water again to thoroughly cleanse his skin.

“You have the flu, [Name]-ya.” He declared, flicking small, scintillating droplets of water off of his hands as he grabbed a nearby hand towel and leisurely wiped his palms and fingers dry. You visibly curled your lip at this news, the rosy pieces of flesh parting to show your look of disgust.

“You'll be contagious for about a week, so try and keep interactions with others at a minimum.” Law drawled, his ashen hued eyes flicking to meet your [e/c] gaze as you shifted atop the medical bed, staring at him with a frown.

Suddenly, that frown alleviated, and the inverse expression crawled onto your expression. A mischievous nature was suddenly crawling amidst your feverish features, and the tanned male's eyebrows immediately took a dip when he noticed this. He didn't trust that impish glint in your eyes, especially not after you slid ever so languidly off of the medical bed.

You were the cynosure of his attention as you waltzed up to him, trying not to look like walking hell, since that's what you felt like.

“You know, no one ever really thanks you enough for doctoring us when we need it,” You crooned, and you didn't fail to notice the distinct backwards step he took. You could tell he was holding his breath as you got closer, since the virus could be gifted to another via air. You almost burst out laughing at his curled lip.

_Germaphobe._

The one word crossed your mind as you chuckled idly to yourself, your roseate lips giving with to a cheeky grin.

“[Name]-ya,” Law nearly barked, clearly displeased by this close proximity, “Did I not just tell you close contact was something you should avoid?”

 

Clearly the fever must have gotten to your head, and that's why you weren't listening to him. That's what he seemed to be telling himself as you closed the distance between you two, winding your lissome arms around his frame as he hissed, all of his body craning back and away from you as much as possible.

He growled at the strained giggles you were attempting to smother by pursing your lips, before you stood on your toes, leaning in closely. Your warm breath fanned out across his lips, and the fact that he went rigid only served to further amuse you. His hands were pushing against you slightly as if to stop your advances, and his protests fell on deaf ears as you playfully leaned in further, closing the distance between you two.

Your lips were soft against his own, and for a few fleeting moments, he stood stationary, like a solidified statue. The curling of your lips into a smug smile against his own lips was what stirred him, and all at once he awoke again, stirring abruptly as he seized your arms and ripped your lips from his as he pulled back.

“[Name]-ya! That's _unsanitary_!” He snapped, but you were too busy laughing, tears welling up in your eyes you were guffawing so hard as he immediately grabbed some disinfectant wipes, ranting on about how unhealthy your recent actions were before he left the room, probably to go and rinse his mouth out with scalding hot water. This left you to crack up laughing on your own, and even though it brought on a coughing fit, it was worth it.

•·.·´¯`·.·• •·.·´¯`·.·•´

About two weeks had elapsed, and you had returned to a fully salubrious state, thanks to the unwilling assistance of Law. He had been fairly bitter about the fact you had kissed him whilst having the flu, but his duties as a doctor seemed to keep him grounded and willing enough to give you what you needed for a swift recovery.

He had not, however, been so lucky as to walk away unscathed from your antics.

“Captain?” You peeked your head around the edge of his door, a steaming bowl of soup clasped in one hand and some medicine in the other.

Shaded, gray colored eyes opened slowly, flicking to your figure that stood in the illuminated framing of his door. He frowned a bit at the abrupt variance in lighting, but watched you closely as you set down your armful of items. The smell of freshly baked soup bombarded his sense of smell, and caused his head to pulsate slightly as he pinched the taut flesh between his brows.

“I brought you some soup. Penguin-san told me about some other foods that might help, but I didn't think you'd like them.” You said, gesturing to the warm cuisine. He frowned up at you deeply, and you sighed a bit, placing a hand on your hip.

“Oh come on. You aren't still mad at me, are you?” You teased, raising a brow at him.

Law lay still for a long moment, but you didn't like the way he was looking at you. You definitely didn't like the way he suddenly kicked his blanket off of his lower calf, and you certainly didn't like the way he stood up, prowling towards you. His hair was unkempt from laying in bed, and his jeans were loose around his hips, with the tattoos on his chest in plain sight due to his lack of shirt.

“O-Okay, right. Got it. Still mad.” You stuttered, taking a step back as you put your hands up as if you were attempting to ward him off.

That didn't deter him.

“Captain you need to lay down and get some rest. Really, C-Captain you shouldn't— _Law!_ ” You squealed when he grabbed you without warning, picking you up with ease, even in his sickened state. He hoisted you onto his shoulder, with you flailing and jolting a bit, yipping in surprise and confusion.

This didn't faze the surgeon, and he proceeded to walk backwards, back towards his bed until the back of his knees collided gently with the edge of the mattress. He allowed the weight of his form to fall rearward, back onto his bed with you in tow as you yelped.

He exhaled faintly, the sturdy muscles of his arms winding around you as he pulled your much smaller figure to his own, locking you in his grasp as you squirmed and attempted to push him off. He wasn't having any of it, and didn't budge a single inch despite your efforts. He even smirked smugly to himself when you groaned in protest.

“Captain, this isn't funny! I just got better!” You laughed, tossing and twisting in his arms, causing him to tighten his grip around you in order to quell your struggling.

“What happened to being a germaphobe? To keeping distance from others when they're sick?!” You tried desperately, his nose brushing against the side of your neck as his smirk widened. He sure was a cocky bastard, even in a sickly condition.

He didn't bother with answering you. He ignored your complaints and groans in favor of using you as a pillow. His chin was tucked against your shoulder, his face half buried in your hair, with his arms trapped around your torso and his leg hooked over yours.

Eventually you seized your flailing, your cheeks a bit red as you craned your head over your shoulder to glare playfully at him. Honestly, he was such a brat when he wanted to be. But he was sick, and you had caused it, so for now...you supposed letting him use you as his preferred pillow wasn't all that bad.

“If you get me sick again, I'm going to use _you_ as my pillow, Trafalgar.”

•·.·´¯`·.·• •·.·´¯`·.·•´

_╔ An apple a day keeps the doctor away, but if the doctor's cute, then ditch the fruit. ╖_


End file.
